This is chapter 8, part 1 of the Pleasing María novel. If you are under 18 years of age, or are offended by explicit descriptions of sexual activity or violence, or by strong language, please exit this site immediately. To view the Table of Contents of the novel click here. To go directly to the first chapter, click here. To read the latest novel post, click here. This is a rough second draft.
Chapter 8 – Part 1, Knives in Her Groin
María’s period of prostitution lasted almost two years, then ended about as quickly as it began. Her father in Guatemala suffered a minor stroke, and I pressured her to go see her family. This would provide a real excuse to stop seeing her clients, and give us all the chance to wean off our dependency on her prostitution activities.
I decided I’d go with her and take Brett. Her family had never seen Brett, it would be a great thrill for them. I also had ulterior motives – I wanted to advance our long-delayed wedding plans. I had become obsessed about our marriage, convinced this simple act would bind her to me permanently. I bought our plane tickets. Brett and I would stay a few days, but she should stay until she arranged the basics of the wedding. Since her family’s house was small, Brett and I would stay in a hotel, and María would alternate between her parents’ house and the hotel.
As our departure date neared, María tapered off her clients, with promises to contact the most desperate clients as soon as she returned. She told them she planned a 2-3 month vacation. She knew many of her clients, both men and women, were lost in love with her, something she never anticipated and didn’t want. Despite this, she became more and more excited, returning to her bubbly self. Her somberness had grown slowly, hardly noticeable at the time, and her return to ‘María’ was quick and delightful.
When we arrived in Antigua, María’s family welcomed her at their house, but she found it crowded and uncomfortable. She felt like a stranger. She wanted to spend time with her father and mother, so she tolerated it. The day after we arrived, she went to the parish priest and confessed everything. She hadn’t confessed in a few years, so she confessed quite a list of sins: prostitution, extramarital sex with men and women, the Pol, anal and oral sex, cocaine, the Photog, everything. The priest remembered her from before, her confessions about the sex-dance club men, and gave her an extra severe penitence. Maria determined to fulfill the penitence – after all, outside of spending time with her parents, arranging for our Catholic wedding was the main purpose of the trip. She determined to forgo other men, and living with her family helped.
As soon as she arrived in Antigua, the men went after her in droves. María put on her wedding band, but that seemed to excite and attract men more. The men told her nothing is sweeter than fucking another man’s beautiful wife. Those proposals tempted her, but she held firm. It helped that Brett and I accompanied her around town, but men hit on her as soon as she got out of our sight. I thought this trip would be a good test for her. I went to City Hall to re-validate my residency permit, then visited the Catholic church with María to get the requirements for our wedding – the requirements for my conversion to Catholicism were daunting and time-consuming, but I determined to make it happen. I would start the conversion process back in San Francisco.
* * *
The day before I left, we saw DeepThroat in Antigua, promenading his family. His woman was indigenous, cute as a bug, with her traditional wrap skirt, and embroidered blouse, makeup, high heels, jade and silver earrings, and long, straight black hair tied in a pony tail. She was smaller than María, and looked at DeepThroat with adoration. A little boy trailed behind, shy, hiding behind his mother’s skirt. DeepThroat carried a baby that he goo-goo-gah’d over. He stopped short when he saw us, but I walked directly up to him – I had some unfinished business. Then I stuck out my hand to shake. After hand shakes, I introduced María to the wife, and told her we knew [DeepThroat] from years ago, and he did us some big favors. María was pensive, looking from the wife to DeepThroat to the baby. She finally asked if it was a girl, the wife said yes, and gave the names of both children. Brett came up behind us, and the two boys stared at each other, as boys do. María asked if she could hold the baby. The way she looked at and handled the girl broke my heart. The women turned to the side and began cooing over the little girl.
I asked DeepThroat if he was happy, if he was pleased with the decision he made years ago. He said yes, once he met his wife, but before that, he knew he should have finished what he started, finished me. And he would have been happy with that life also. I thanked him for sparing me, and he became edgy. He nudged his wife. María reluctantly returned the baby, and we parted.
We were both silent as we walked along, Brett skipped along between us, and I spoke first,
“He seems happy.”
“The baby girl was beautiful.”
“That could have been your family – any regrets?”
“Yes, I wanted a girl. I want a girl.”
“You could have helped him, could have told him to finish me.”
“I’ve had many moments when I thought we should have castrated you. But I’m OK, happy now. Besides, he made his choice to take me or not, and he didn’t.”
“Why not, why didn’t he take you?”
“I don’t know, I’ll never know, but I’m here with you now, still.”
I didn’t know either, it would have been so easy for him. Maybe he lost heart, maybe it was a violent step beyond what he could do. Or maybe he waited for another sign from María that never came. He left me my testicles intact – that’s why I thanked him.
* * *
María was reflective and seemed willing to talk about the painful past. I thought this would be a good time to ask about the Pol,
“Why did you leave me for the Pol?”
“I didn’t leave you.”
“Yes, you left. You packed and waited three days for him. You left me, he didn’t come for you.”
“Yes, yes, I left you! Ok, do you feel better now?”
“I’m not trying to argue with you now – I felt like you killed me then. And I never knew why.”
“He didn’t fight for you, but he won you somehow. Was it the raw sex? The Ride? The rich clothes and celebrity lifestyle? The cocaine? Because he was black? The excitement of … I don’t know, all the above reasons?”
“I don’t know either. He was sexy, he twisted knives in my groin, as you often say. I burned inside when I was with him. He was sexy. That’s all. I’m glad I didn’t go with him. I would have hated losing Brett, losing you, as screwed-up as you are.”
“You don’t regret it? If you’d have gone with him, he might be governor of California by now, and you’d be the First Lady, the most important and famous woman in the state.”
“You mean I’d be the First Whore of California. He’d be sending me to fuck every low-life politician for votes. And it’d be your fault. You let me go with him, you let him fuck me however he wanted, you let him ‘ride’ my ass, you let him buy me, you let him drug me, he made me a prostitute and that excited you. You didn’t deserve me, and don’t deserve me now. You made me a paid-for puta in front of the whole world. Ok, do you feel better now?”
“You weren’t a prostitute, I told you that back then.”
“That’s when I knew I was a prostitute. You came in to fuck me full of lust and disrespect. You fucked me like I was a hooker, without love or cariño, you just forgot to leave the money. A lot of money. You let him make me a prostitute, and you got your rocks off inside my slutty, trashy, hooker cunt. That’s when I knew I was a real prostitute.”
“That’s not fair, you fuck him because he’s sexy and hot and that’s fine, but if I fuck you for the same reasons, you’re a prostitute.”
“It’s not the same – you were my husband and the father of my son, he was just a good fuck.”
Brett was getting upset, and we walked along in silence. I reached for her hand and she squeezed mine. I had opened an old wound I didn’t even know existed. I took her arm, then put my arm around her waist and she leaned into me. She didn’t want to fight now. Still, I doubted that was the end of this topic. All I wanted to do was get her home, bury my face in her vulva, cry and ask for forgiveness. I should make that a regular habit, at least weekly, like going to regular confession. I sinned against her constantly, and didn’t even know how I sinned.
She had destroyed my theory she could only be taken from me by cariños. He took her because he was sexy. I had no defenses if any sexy man could take her. I wasn’t sexy. It wasn’t fair, she chose him. She told me she would see him – she didn’t ask my opinion or permission. Yet it was my fault he bought her. It had to be my fault, I didn’t understand why or how. It wasn’t logical – my head hurt.
I had one more question for her, but not for now: why did you call yourself a Magnificent slut?
* * *
As the departure date for Brett and I approached, I began to get concerned about all manner of things that might happen to her there alone. The old terror returned, I might lose her. I gave her my wedding band to wear as a daily reminder of my resolve to marry her as soon as possible. When we boarded the plane, I began crying and Brett cried because I cried. We were still sniffling when we arrived in San Francisco six hours later. Our lives had been hollowed out. And I was sure some man would manage to get to her.
I wrote María everyday, and she responded every 2-3 days. I always included news and photos of Brett in our messages and conversations – I wanted to keep that bond foremost in her mind while she planned the wedding. My soul refilled once again with the terror of losing her – a plane crash, car accident, assault, sickness, uncountable horrors, even another man or woman. For the first time in my life, I restricted her sexual activity – I forbid her to see DeepThroat even casually. For all other sex, she had to follow our rules strictly. She agreed cheerfully – she hadn’t seen DeepThroat or anyone else.
Despite her father’s mistreatment of her in the years before she married me, she still loved him, as a daughter loves her daddy. She never forgot those long rolling orgasms, first experienced with her father, her first lover. She spent hours everyday helping him eat and walk, and talked constantly to him throughout the day. Her messages to me talked about re-bonding with her family, so I was happy for her and optimistic about arranging for our marriage.
End of book content.
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